


Simon Says

by BluebeardsWife



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluebeardsWife/pseuds/BluebeardsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fair warning: This is currently a work in progress and I'm writing it out of order, so chapters will appear willy nilly and out of order and incomplete. It should still be fun to read along because it is a retelling of the canonical events that take place in season 2, told from Simon's POV. Definitely contains spoilers for season 2, so don't read if you haven't seen it. Feedback is appreciated, as long as it's constructive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Simon's gaze roamed lazily over the hazy hillside, slowly tracing the hills that blended into the gray sky at the horizon. He had never been a nature lover as a living person – give him the hustle and bustle of the city any day – but now he found that he enjoyed the peace and quiet. It was so remote from the sterile chaos of the treatment centre, from the life that he had thrown away, the memories of the rising that, eventually, did return to him. He felt almost free here.

For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the mixture of exhilaration and pride that had been hiding in his chest since he was chosen for this mission. To find the first risen. To help bring about the second rising. To liberate his people from the shackles of the living. _For as they shall rise from the dead, they are as the angels which are in heaven._

"Excuse me?" a tentative voice interrupted his reverie. "You're uh... you're sitting on me grave."

The gangly young man that approached him was not how Simon had imagined Kieren Walker. Amy had talked of him as an inspiration. Someone who wanted to change things and had suffered intensely under the living's regime. Simon was prepared for the cover up mousse and the contacts – Amy had mentioned Kieren's reluctance to let go of his old life. But something about his awkward gait reminded Simon of a long-legged woodland creature. The impression was only intensified by the oversized hoodie that enveloped the boy's slender frame.

"This you?" Simon asked, pointing at the tombstone. "Oh, I'm sorry," he lied smoothly as he stood up. "Didn't realize you were one of us, all that... on your face."

Simon was momentarily taken aback by the instant effect those words had on the amber haired boy's face. It was almost too easy.

"D'you...?" he gestured vaguely at the tombstone again before lowering his body to read the inscription.

"Gone is the face we loved so dear. Silent the voice we loved to hear," he read saccharinely, shooting a disingenuous smile at Kieren. He paused for effect. "It rhymes."

"Yeah, I didn't choose it." Kieren replied instantly, indignation obvious in his voice. Too easy. Had Simon been the least bit interested in athletics, this set up would have required an epic sports analogy.

"What would you have chosen?" he asked.

Kieren took a moment to respond. "Maybe a poem or something."

"I balanced all, brought all to mind / the years to come seemed waste of breath / a waste of breath the years behind / and balanced with this life, this death." Simon recited, as he had countless times before. "That's what I would have wanted."

Amy appeared, as though on cue. "Oh great! You guys have met." She said with a big smile on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

episode 2x02

"You came."   
Simon rose to greet Kieren as he arrived with Amy at the bonfire. He took in the young man's appearance: hoodie and a jean jacket. The clothes he was buried in. The clothes he was born in. Simon noted that Kieren still wore his cover up mousse and contacts. While his face was still beautiful, with a hint of untouched innocence in it even with the clumsily slathered-on makeup, Simon wondered when he would get to see the real Kieren.   
"Yep," Kieren's slight awkwardness made Simon smile.  
"Well, I'm glad," he said genuinely.   
"Can I talk to you, uh... in private?" Kieren asked.  
"I'm gonna go and search for more wood for this incredible fire," Amy declared before heading off, and Simon offered a word of caution:  
"Don't go too far, Amy."   
"I'll be fine!" Amy dismissed him, but Simon knew that, with the arrival of the Victus MP, it was less and less safe for them around these parts. Still, it was unlikely that they were in danger on this side of the fence. It was funny, he thought, how fences that were meant to keep danger out did the opposite for some people. He gestured to Kieren to join him a few feet away from the fire.   
Simon knew what was coming. Kieren wanted to leave. Desperately. And he wanted the ULA's help. The truth was, of course, that if they really wanted to, they could have helped him. But it was not in their best interest to do so. Nor Kieren's. Choosing his words carefully to avoid flat out lying to the young man sitting beside him, Simon explained:  
"It's got nothing to do with the money, Kieren."   
Perhaps by relating a personal anecdote he could make Kieren understand. He knew the feeling. The desire to run away, to leave the horrors of your life behind. He knew it too well. Just like he knew that running away wouldn't work. The world you needed and deserved couldn't be found by relocating. It had to be built up from scratch.   
"Look, when I was a kid, I used to dream of escaping to the US. I'd grown up with old American movies, and I thought that if I got there, I'd somehow be happier. I eventually did. When I was 21, I got to the States. And after a week, the stardust rubbed off and I was miserable again. You understand?" Simon glanced at Kieren, whose amber hair glowed in the light of the fire. His makeup looked almost natural.   
There was just something about Kieren, sitting there with his shoulders hunched over, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, when Simon could sense that there was so much more to him. He sincerely believed that all the Redeemed were special. But he rarely, if ever, felt a presence emanating from them like he did with Kieren.   
"Amy told me what happened here," Simon spoke again. He knew he was treading on sensitive ground, but the moment felt right. "What happened with Bill Macy," he paused and looked into Kieren's warm eyes before continuing. "What happened with Rick Macy."   
They held each other's gaze for a few moments before Kieren slowly looked away, as though the memory, the mere thought of it, was just too painful. Simon felt a momentary pang of regret for bringing it up, but it was for Kieren's own good. He had to face the truth in order to be ready to make a difference. A vague thought occurred to him of how lucky this Rick guy had been to have someone like Kieren love him.   
"You said to her once that you thought you could change things around here." Simon interrupted the silence again.  
"I'd like to." Kieren's voice sounded shaky. "There's just nothing for me here."  
And it dawned on Simon that Kieren just needed a reason to stay. A sufficient reason. A compelling reason.  
"There's your family," he said. "There's Amy." He felt an odd sense of nervousness before reaching out to place his hand over Kieren's. Touch was a major component of his strategy to connect with the other Redeemed. It was only human to respond to it. And there were no ulterior motives – just an attempt at connection. But then why did it feel awkward with Kieren, like he was hitting on him?  
"There's me," Simon completed his speech, his voice calmer than he could have hoped for.   
At these words, Kieren raised his eyes to meet Simon's. There was surprise in them – clearly he had read it as an advance – but Simon couldn't help noting that there was no resistance, no repulsion or disappointment. He smiled ever so slightly, maintaining eye contact for a brief moment before pulling his hand and his eyes away.  
"I don't imagine you've ever had sheep's brains?" Simon asked, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets.  
"N-no," Kieren chuckled a little, standing up to face the older man. "It's not really my thing."  
"Hm." Simon pursed his lips slightly. "I mean, I obviously can't have any because I'm in charge of the party and... well..." his voice tapered off as he tugged slightly at his jacket sleeves, which they both knew were hiding needle marks from his past life. "But I don't see any reason why you can't." He looked up at Kieren, who clearly hadn't expected this.   
"I..." Kieren closed his eyes for a moment and thought about it. "Yeah, I guess."   
Simon leaned in a little. "I'll look after you," he whispered. "Promise."  
Kieren smiled that little half smile that made Simon almost feel alive again.   
"Okay," he said.   
Though he hadn't taken any sheep's brains, the rest of the night was a blur for Simon. He spent most of it sitting on the floor in a corner, with the loud music and dancing Undead surrounding him, focused solely on the giggling young man sitting next to him, intently trying to win a game of thumb wars against him. They spoke of little, unimportant things; nothing worth remembering. Yet every word remained etched in Simon's brain as an indispensable piece of information about a young man whose laugh sent electricity through Simon's spine in a way that was as powerfully healing as the real electricity that Halperin and Weston had sent through it had been damaging. He slept like a baby that night, without waking up once in a panic, waiting to be kicked out of his own bed again.


	3. Chapter 3

For at least the seventh time that evening, Simon's thoughts returned to Kieren. Even Amy had gotten sick of his brooding and retreated into her room. But however he tried, Simon could not stop the feelings of betrayal and anger from pulsing through his body. He didn't want to think about it. Kieren wasn't his first failed recruit, but for some reason, it upset him disproportionately. He hadn't even told Amy about what happened for fear of... Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely sure what he was afraid of. That she would see how much he cared? Why would that be a bad thing? Of course he cared. Simon got up from the couch and started pacing around the living room, absentmindedly drumming his fingers in the air. He was dedicated to the cause. Completely dedicated. 

An inkling of the truth, however, had started forming at the back of his mind. It wasn't about the cause. This was about Kieren specifically. And about Simon. And about urges and desires he had thought he was no longer capable of. Well tough shit, he thought to himself. The kid was a lost cause and a traitor to his people. 

A sharp knock on the door startled Simon out of his thoughts. He wasn't expecting visitors. Unbidden late night visits were rarely good news. He braced himself and walked briskly to the door, flinging it open. Kieren's warm eyes stared back at him from the darkness. For a moment, Simon gleefully thought that Kieren had come to apologize. To beg him for another chance. But as the youngster rushed past him uninvited into the kitchen, Simon noticed the missing contact lens in Kieren's right eye and his smeared face. The disconcerted look on Kieren's face should have been easy to read. Kieren's expressions were always so transparent. But through the rising panic in his chest, Simon realized he couldn't decipher him this time. 

"What's the matter? What happened?" The words stumbled out of Simon's mouth. He was too worried now for the anger or the disappointment. The moment seemed to stretch forever as Kieren stared at Simon, and Simon was reminded of the first time he had seen Kieren at the cemetery. Kieren looked at him with desperation akin to a wounded animal. 

"Kieren..." Simon started to say, but with a swift movement Kieren had bridged the distance between them, lunging forward and pressing his lips firmly against Simon's. Simon was pushed backwards with the surprise and sheer force of the younger man's advance. His thoughts seemed to dissolve into a swirling mess as he found himself eagerly returning Kieren's kiss. Steadying himself, Simon pushed back into Kieren with equal force while gently cradling the back of the boy's head in his hands. This was heaven. 

All this time, Simon had thought that he was reading Kieren like a book, that he was in charge, in control, when in fact, quite the opposite was true. Kieren had seen right through Simon from the very start and called him out every step of the way. Kieren, who, unlike Simon, knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. Kieren, whose convictions somehow transcended his own. Kieren, who was now pulling away from this perfect kiss, as Simon found himself desperately trying to hang on to the feeling of those soft lips on his. 

He looked at Kieren's mismatched eyes, noting that this was his first glimpse of them without the taint of the disguise mandated by the living. "Kieren..." was all he managed to say again. He imagined himself looking bewildered like a wild animal and struggled to pull himself together. 

"I'm sorry," Kieren said, looking away. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, I..." Simon stammered and blinked, finding himself at a loss for words. 

"You're right," Kieren continued, seemingly not noticing that he had turned the 12th disciple of the Undead Prophet into a stuttering idiot. "It's not right the way they treat us. And I need to do something about it."

Simon finally regained his composure. Finally Kieren would join the redeemed. This was great news. He furrowed his brow for a moment and said, as calmly and firmly as he could,

"Come by tomorrow." The words came out gentle and unsure instead of bold and commanding. Kieren nodded and smiled briefly up at Simon, sending a little electric shock down the disciple's body. They lingered like that for a moment before Kieren rushed back out the door, leaving behind him the scent of the cold night air and the warmth of a first kiss in this lifetime.


	4. Chapter 4

Simon was on top of his game during the next morning's gathering.  The Redeemed sat around him in a circle, ardently absorbing his words and readily sharing their rising stories. Simon finally felt like he was making progress here in Roarton, building a community, and getting ever closer in his search for the first risen. When the doorbell rang, he pointedly ignored the anxious excitement at the thought that it might be Kieren, but there was no denying the small jolt in his stomach at the sight of Kieren's form in the doorframe. Simon continued his sermon confidently but with a vague awareness that he was being watched and evaluated.

"Telling our rising stories is where we start to say no.  If we are serious about becoming free, the first shackle we have to throw off is shame." With fervent nods all around and a small but enthusiastic "Yeah!" from Zoe, Simon felt that everything was falling into place. "No rising story should be left untold. Thank you, Brian."

Simon rose slowly from his seat and approached Kieren, with what he thought was his most dignified smile.

"You made it," he said warmly. "Welcome!"

"Seriously?" Kieren gave him an incredulous glare. 

How was it that Kieren always managed to knock him down a peg and make him feel like a small boy looking for approval? All the other Redeemed looked up to him with a sort of reverence. What the hell did it take with this boy? Before Simon could even rearrange his obvious look of confusion into a more respectable facial expression, Kieren moved on.

"I need to talk to you in private," he said and gestured toward the kitchen.  Simon followed obediently, suddenly feeling even less like an important disciple and more like a forlorn puppy.

"Oh by the way, they're making a list of non-compliants," Kieren said matter-of-factly as soon as they were alone.  Simon had to admit that he had expected a warmer greeting. "So not showing up to the Give-Back _probably_ isn't the great idea you think it is," Kieren continued cooly.

Did last night not happen? Simon could feel his chest caving in as the high he had felt when the other Redeemed were gazing up at him with adoration quickly dissipated. Why was Kieren's opinion so much more important than everyone else's?

And still, Kieren kept going: "Or sending your _followers_ to it without cover-up on."

That was going too far.

"My followers?" Simon asked, visibly offended.

"All these brainwashed people everywhere..." Kieren blurted out, avoiding eye contact.

That was enough. Simon had endured Kieren's little jabs and sarcastic comments about his mission and position with the ULA long enough. It was time to confront Kieren's denial about what the living were doing to him.

"Why?" Simon asked as he approached Kieren. "Because they have something to believe in?" He wasn't sure why he extended his arm to pull Kieren closer.  It felt like a faraway ghost of the moment they shared the previous night. "Listen to me, Kieren," Simon continued. He gave up on trying to carefully choose the right words, and spoke as plainly as he could.   "You're the one who's brainwashed. Just over a longer period."

"Yeah, don't do that," Kieren muttered pulling away from Simon's grasp.

"What am I doing?"  Simon said, confused. 

"Whatever conversion technique you're trying. I'm ju... I'm not up for it."

"I'm not doing anything to ya." It finally dawned on Simon that Kieren did not trust him. Unlike all the other Redeemed, who had grasped for his message of hope like drowning men grasp for land, Kieren's loyalties continued to lie with his family, with the living.

"Do you know what's so annoying?" Kieren exploded. "It's that you could be great if you could just be a normal person for two seconds."

He reached for the door, and, suddenly realizing that the only way to keep him from leaving was to acquiesce, Simon blurted out, "What do normal people do?"

Though Kieren paused, his face was still set firmly towards the door.

"I'm serious." Simon said and, realizing he sounded more angry than comforting, repeated in a calmer tone, "I'm serious."

The realization that he cared more about this boy staying than, well, anything overwhelmed him, but he kept his composure.  The problem was that as much as he cared about Kieren, he didn't understand him. And he wanted to. If there was one thing he was good at, it was following. He just needed directions.

"Tell me what you want, and I'll do anything I can to give it to you," he finally said, resigning himself to his emotions. "Because there's what I believe..." Simon let out an exasperated laugh. "And then there's you."  He sighed deeply, glancing at Kieren's big brown eyes staring up at him. Kieren wanted the person underneath the disciple? Well, this was him. "Okay?" he asked, trying to muster up the strength to look at Kieren again. "Okay?"

They stared at each other for a moment, Kieren looking as scared and vulnerable as Simon felt, when footsteps entering the kitchen jolted them both out of their imagined cocoon. Amy entered the room, and Kieren slammed against the counter, awkwardly trying to put distance between him and Simon.


	5. Chapter 5

Simon had never been in love. He got involved in drugs early in his youth and simply was never sober long enough to develop feelings or close bonds. He had had a few casual affairs. He did enjoy the physical aspect of them, but didn't miss it much in his second life. That was until Kieren showed up at his doorstep that night and left Simon's lips burning for more. He didn't understand how feelings could be so overwhelming. How they could make him so willing to compromise his principles. He stood in front of the mirror, having just inserted Kieren's extra pair of brown contact lenses into his eyes, but stared intently at his hands, trying to will himself to look at his reflection.

  
"You don't have to do this. We can just forget all about it," Kieren's voice wafted in through the closed door. Simon allowed himself a small smile. Kieren had asked him to come to lunch with his parents ever so tentatively. Bashfully. It was absolutely impossible to say no.

  
"No, you said you want me to see your world, so..."

  
"Well, I'm not holding you to anything."

  
"I said I'll do it, I'll do it." Kieren's reluctance was only making Simon more nervous. "It's part of the..." He accidentally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "... getting to know you." He lowered his voice. "Jesus Christ."

  
It was even more jarring than he had anticipated. A rush of memories hit him. Of his old life. Of seeing his reflection again after he rose. Of his father. Of his mother. He shook his head as though physically throwing off the unpleasant thoughts and turned to face the door.

  
"Is anyone around?" He called out to Kieren. He was not willing to let any of the Redeemed see him this way.

  
"No," came Kieren's response.

  
"Better not be," Simon couldn't keep his frustration in as he stormed out of the bedroom and past Kieren onto the street. "Yeah, yeah, start walking," he mumbled, hoping that his disgruntled exterior would cover the soft pulse that beat inside his chest upon seeing Kieren's happy grin.

As they walked toward the street, Simon glanced at Kieren, who was still beaming.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“So bad.” Kieren laughed.

“Yeah,” Simon kept walking, scared that pausing would make him lose his nerve, but he was immediately stopped by Kieren, who turned to face him.

“Thank you.” Kieren said earnestly, looking him directly in the eyes.

“It’s okay.” Simon heard himself saying, shrugging noncommittally. And though he hadn’t worn the cover up since he found a home with the Redeemed, though it went directly against his beliefs and teachings, and though catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror - looking so much more like the old Simon, the living Simon - had made his stomach turn, right now it really _was_ okay. They stood like that for a moment, Kieren holding Simon’s gaze.

One of the things that had changed for Simon, after he rose, was the experience of his corporeality. It was not just that sensations were dulled, at times even completely gone, but that he felt distant, almost detached from his body. He had considered this sense of disembodiment as further proof of the superiority of the Redeemed over the living. After all, the Redeemed were never slaves to their physical urges. However, at this moment, standing within arm’s length of Kieren again, he felt acutely aware of every molecule in his body, because they were all humming with pleasure.

Unexpectedly, Kieren took a step forward, kissing Simon.  The whole world came rushing at him. He was no longer outside his body, observing it indifferently.  He was also not trapped in his flesh prison like he had been while alive. No, for once, he _was_ his body. He felt his eyebrows shoot up and his lips part slightly, as though of their own volition, yearning for a taste of Kieren’s. He returned the kiss eagerly but carefully, as though any sudden movement might scare Kieren away.

When Kieren slowly pulled away, Simon’s head was still reeling. He stood there for a moment, bewildered by the intensity of emotion that this young man continued to stir inside him. He composed himself quickly and hurried to catch up with Kieren.


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s not too late to back out,” Kieren whispered for the second time as they approached his house.

Kieren’s anxiety did nothing to soothe Simon’s nerves.

“Ugh, will you stop saying that,” Simon said with a quick glance at Kieren, “please? I’m fine,” he lied. “I’m completely relaxed.”

It dawned on him that he was meeting the parents. Did this mean that they were in a relationship? Was Kieren his boyfriend? He felt embarrassed by the joy that thought evoked in him. _Keep it together, Simon_.

He noticed a middle aged man with gray hair working in a garden in the next house over.

“Is that your dad?” Simon asked. The word “shit” escaped from his mouth before he could stop it.

“Oh, say you like his jeans!” Kieren whispered urgently.

“What?”

Kieren nodded reassuringly before turning to the gardening man who now stood mere feet in front of them.

“Hey dad,” he said, getting the man’s attention.  With a slightly dopey expression, Kieren’s dad turned towards them.

“Simon,” Kieren continued, “this is my dad, Steve.”

Faking a much greater level of confidence than he had, Simon smiled and reached out his hand.

“Hi Steve,” he said.

Steve returned his smile and shook his hand but remained awkwardly silent. _Say something._

“I like your jeans,” Simon blurted out.

“Thanks very much,” said Steve, seeming pleased about the compliment.

Simon looked excitedly over at Kieren for a moment before realizing he was acting like an approval-seeking puppy, rearranged his face into something hopefully more neutral, and followed Kieren and Simon into the house.

“Sue,” Steve yelled out once they entered. “Kieren’s brought a mate back. Simon.”

“Very nice,” a woman’s voice could be heard from what must be the dining room.

Simon only had a moment to notice the artwork on the walls, but, in spite of never having seen Kieren’s work before, he immediately recognized several of his paintings. His style, with warm tones and intense hues, suited him perfectly.

“Hello Sue,” Simon continued his winning meet-the-parents performance. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. “Thanks for having me,” he said, shaking her hand. She had brown hair and a mousy face, but her smile had the same warmth as her son’s.

Simon was surprised at just how _normal_ Kieren’s parents were. They were like something out of an American TV show.

“I hope you like lunch, Simon.” Steve said awkwardly.

Lunch… It occurred to Simon that he didn’t know how Kieren’s parents had adjusted to their son’s new life. Was he going to have to actually eat with them? He was invited for lunch, after all. Why hadn’t he considered that earlier?

After a moment’s hesitation, Simon opened his mouth to respond. “Uh… Sure,” he said.

If eating food that was toxic to him was what it took to show Kieren how he felt, then he would just deal with vomiting black bile later that evening. 

“It’s definitely in his top three meals we don’t eat,” he heard Kieren say.

Simon’s mouth fell open as he looked over at his companion. Kieren continued to surprise him. True, he did still wear the cover up mousse and the contacts, but he also wasn’t hiding who he really was from his family. That took guts. More guts then Simon had had, in fact.

It was clear that Steve was somewhat uncomfortable with the truth about his son.  He was not entirely able to hide the awkwardness that sprung like a wall between them whenever Kieren’s status as undead arose. Simon wondered if he was disappointed that Kieren had brought home a “PDS sufferer.” He really loathed that term.

Sue, on the other hand, seemed okay with it. She smiled somewhat exasperatedly, but genuinely, offering them seats at the table and rushing to the kitchen to bring out the food.

Once seated, Kieren did little to assuage the awkward tension in the room. He neither acted uncomfortable nor did anything to break the growing silence. Simon, however, unable to adopt his disciple persona on this particular occasion, found himself attempting to make small talk and pretend that having lunch with Kieren’s parents was the most natural thing in the world.

“This is nice,” he said as Sue brought out another plate of food onto the table. “Thank you.”

“I always say you can’t beat a good bit of beef,” said Steve, before glancing nervously around the table.

Simon struggled to find a response, but his mind was a complete blank. The movies always made meeting the parents seem easy. But how do you have a conversation with someone when the only thing you have in common is your affection for their son? Not only that, but he hadn’t had reason to try and converse with the living in ages. He wasn’t sure he could remember how.

“That sister of yours said she’d be here by three,” Steve attempted to break the silence again. “Which, if previous experience is anything to go by, means anytime between now and midnight.”

Simon smiled politely. This was a disaster.

“No point letting it get cold,” Steve muttered, reaching for his silverware.

Simon glanced down at the food-filled plate in front of him. He wasn’t sure what was expected of him. He glanced over at Kieren, who sat unmoving, with his hands in his lap. Okay, good. No eating. Make conversation.

“So, Steve,” Simon said. “How did you and Sue meet?”

It seemed like an innocuous enough question, and Simon had no idea why both Steve and Sue tensed up even more upon hearing it.

“Work,” Steve said simply.

Expecting a more elaborate story, Simon turned to Sue, but she smiled uncomfortably and repeated her husband’s response.

“Work.”

Simon nodded, racking his brains for a suitable conversation topic.

“What about the two of you?” Sue asked.

“Uh, same,” Kieren responded promptly. “Work.”

Simon nodded emphatically. _Say something. Say something_.

“I liked the way he gave back.”

Sheer panic engulfed Simon as the words left his mouth. _I liked the way he gave back? Did you really just say that? You fucking idiot._ He wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Whose stupid idea was it to meet Kieren’s parents anyway? Could this get any worse?

The doorbell rang, and Simon breathed a deep sigh of relief. The momentary reprieve while Steve got the door was followed by an answer to his question. Yes, things could, in fact, get worse.

Kieren’s sister walked in, followed by none other than Gary Kendal, the fuckfaced asshole soldier of the living.

“This is Kieren’s mate Simon,” Steve said obliviously. “Jem and Gary.”

As much as he wanted to punch the fucker right in his ugly face, Simon was determined to make this a positive experience for Kieren. He had promised to act like a normal person, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Though his smile fell and animosity was evident in his eyes, Simon reached out his hand toward Gary and greeted him. Slowly, Gary stepped forward and shook Simon’s hand, making sure to wipe his palm visibly on his trousers afterwards, as though touching Simon would somehow infect him.

“There we are,” Steve seemed unaware of the sheer hatred that filled the room. “The more the merrier!” 

“Yeah,” Sue added. “Plenty to go around.”

“Yeah well there would be, wouldn’t there?” said Jem with a glance towards Simon and Kieren.

The two newcomers took their seats at the table, and Steve stepped into the kitchen for more plates.

“Shall we keep it cool, guys?” Simon took the opportunity to declare a truce. “While we’re here?”

“No problem on this end, pal,” Gary said coolly.

For a moment, it seemed to work. Kieren started up a conversation with his mother while Jem stole some potatoes from Gary’s plate.

And then it happened. It was like watching a massive car wreck in slow motion. Maxine Martin’s idea of commemorating those who died during the rising came up, and suddenly, they were all listening to Gary, recounting in great detail one of his missions, speaking with glee about slaughtering the Undead. Steve’s feeble attempts at changing the topic only seemed to make the situation worse. Simon couldn’t take his eyes off Gary, willing himself to leave it, just leave it, it’s not worth it.

“This rabid,” Gary was explaining, “this… this PDS sufferer,” he glanced at Kieren with a mocking expression of faked concern on his face. Simon could sense Kieren’s whole body tense up next to him, his expression stony and filled with rage. Instinctively, Simon placed a hand on Kieren’s knee under the table, but Kieren felt infinitely far away from him at that moment. After Gary wound up his murderous tale with a gleeful reenactment of an undead person’s death throes, a brief silence filled the room.

“That what you did in the war, is it?” Kieren’s voice was even and steady. “Kill people?”

“Leave it,” Simon interjected, trying to diffuse the situation for Kieren’s sake, but Kieren was having none of it.

“No, no, no, I won’t,” he said, turning back towards Gary. “I killed people, too.”

The temperature in the room seemed to suddenly drop several degrees. The tension was palpable.

“Funny story of my own, actually,” Kieren continued, and Simon listened intently. “I rose from the dead. And then, after that, I ripped people apart.”

“Kieren,” Sue pleaded.

“Okay, maybe it’s not that funny, but you can sit there and listen to it anyway like we did with you.”

“Kieren, don’t…” Steve tried.

“No, you’re alright, mate,” Gary said, apparently realizing that he had gone too far.

“No, listen to the story.” Kieren kept going. “It’s weird, at first, because all there is is just darkness. It’s so dark, it doesn’t make a difference if your eyes are open or closed. What you think is that you’ve been buried alive.”

“Kieren, please.” Steve was visibly distressed, but Kieren paid him no mind.

“Not ideal. Now that’s proper, proper panic there, you know? You hit out at the lid of the coffin, even though you know there’s no way, but then it starts to give. You have to push your way through all the soil.” Kieren turned to look at Simon. “It takes ages, doesn’t it?”

Simon nodded. He had been listening to all the Redeemed’s rising stories since he came to Roarton. He had preached the importance of the retelling, of the casting off of the shame. But mostly, it was just a way of finding the first risen. Until now. Kieren continued.

“It takes so long. But then suddenly, something is different, you feel the wind on the tips of your fingers, and the rain. Because before that, you’re not really sure where you are, but… but now you know.”

Kieren’s story wasn’t much different than all the others. But Simon had always listened with such detachment. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much the act of rising from their graves bound the Redeemed to one another. How universal the experience was. How sacred. And Kieren was telling his rising story, in great detail, not just to Simon, and not just to Gary, but to his family.

“And you’re pushing through, and then all this stuff at once. The moon, and this incredible storm blowing. And the clock chiming midnight.” _Midnight?_   “You’re just standing there, nobody else around. And all of it pushing into me.”

Simon could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“No one else, are you sure?” he asked.

“No,” Kieren continued, “but you know what I felt?”

“Were there any other graves open?” Simon felt panic rising in his gut.

“The other graves are fine, I’m trying to say something.” Kieren said, unaware of the awe that filled Simon as he stared at this extraordinary young man, everything finally falling into place.

Kieren was the first risen. _Of course_ he was the first risen. How did it take Simon so long to realize it? All these feelings he’s been having, the need to please and be close to Kieren, it all made sense now. Kieren wasn’t just important to him. He was the one who would bring about the second rising. He was the key.

Simon exhaled, letting the room fall away around him, and all there was was Kieren, telling his rising story.

“That feeling… it’s like what being born must be like. Except you’ve got context. Because, honestly, you’re dead. Everything up until then was fear. Everything. Even when I was alive. Just different levels of fear. And then it’s gone.” Kieren’s voice shook slightly as he remembered the feeling. “And I uh…yeah, come on, give it to me, fill me up! But you know what, Gary? This hunger, this appetite, I could not wait to get started.”

Vaguely, as though from a great distance, Simon heard Steve’s hand hit the table angrily. Though they were all within a few feet from each other, Simon felt a million miles away. _Kieren is the first risen._

“That’s enough!” Steve exclaimed. “Do you hear me? I will not have it.”

_The first risen_.

“Oh did I cross the line, dad?” Kieren kept going. “While they sit around and high five each other about killing us, like it’s a big joke. Oh no, that’s fine with everyone. I say one thing, and that is indecent! I’m sorry but that is bullshit!”

_Kieren._

“Come on, Simon,” Kieren said softly as he stood up and grabbed his jacket, heading toward the door.

“Come on!” he said more loudly, finally snapping Simon out of his dreamlike state.

“Yeah,” Simon mumbled absentmindedly, following Kieren out the door.

 

The walk back to the bungalow seemed to take no time at all. They walked silently, Kieren bounding forward with determination on his face, Simon rushing slightly to keep up with the long-legged young man. When they arrived, Kieren sat down on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror. Simon stopped at the door frame, unable to take his eyes off the first risen. He had finally found him.

Kieren took both his contacts out and flicked them onto the floor. His eyes were piercing and so much more expressive now that they were not hidden behind a brown film. He took a handkerchief and started wiping the cover up mousse from his face, revealing small patches of sallow skin under the beige cream. As though noticing Simon’s presence for the first time, Kieren stopped suddenly and looked up at the disciple. He stood up slowly, walked over to the door and begin wiping the mousse off Simon’s face.

His touch was firm but gentle, as he gazed at Simon with such care. They didn’t need to speak. The act was self-explanatory. Simon had led many Redeemed on a quest of self-discovery, of self-acceptance, love, even. But for the first time he wasn’t an outsider looking in. As Kieren wiped the makeup off both their faces, it was as if he had wiped all the fear and the shame and the regret along with it. The moment felt more intimate than sex.

Their faces finally clean, Simon reached over to move a stray lock of amber hair from Kieren’s forehead. Kieren closed his eyes at the touch. With a sharp intake of breath, Simon leaned down slowly and grazed Kieren’s lips with his own.  Kieren reached forward, closing his fists around the ends of Simon’s cardigan, and pulled him closer, kissing him with ever increasing urgency.

 

That night, Simon snuck out to walk to the payphone down the street. He dialed the number that had been given to him at the start of the mission, and spoke the words he had rehearsed in his head.

“I found the first risen,” he said, pausing briefly as he struggled to articulate the waves of emotion that hadn’t stopped washing over him since Kieren’s revelation.

“You should see him. He’s beautiful.”

 

 


End file.
